


Limelight

by deadcereus



Category: Cookie Run (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Friendship, Halloween Costumes, Lime goes hiking in Dragon's Valley, cryptid Sandwich Cookie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadcereus/pseuds/deadcereus
Summary: It's easy to miss, but Orange has never liked being in the limelight. She still doesn't like it, but...Being the center of Lime's undivided attention is something else. Something she might kinda like? Or love or hate or like, maybe fear. Or or or or—never mind! Haha, it's better to just stick with tennis! Yes. Definitely.(It's easy to miss what's right in front of you, if you can't even be upfront with yourself.)
Relationships: Dino-Sour Cookie & Lime Cookie (Cookie Run), Hero Cookie & Lemon Cookie (Cookie Run), Lemon Cookie & Orange Cookie (Cookie Run), Lime Cookie/Orange Cookie (Cookie Run)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 11





	Limelight

* * *

Lemon is being held hostage by giant flying sandwiches, and Orange is absolutely useless.

She should be helping him, but she's busy cuddling a tiny green... triangle. With flat, empty Vantablack eyes. What _even_ is that. It looks like an alien's attempt at drawing a moldy sandwich. An alien with no concept of what food should look like.

Some friend she is, abandoning him for that thing. "Hey, look at this cutie-pie! Lemon, look!"

"That's a sandwich."

Orange flashes her trademark megawatt smile. If he asked Hero to channel that energy into one of his clever inventions, it could power the entire city for three days. Or more. "Yeah, isn't it adorable?"

Such stupidity doesn't deserve a reply, but for the debt he'll never be able to repay, he gives one anyway. "No."

Immediately, the creature shrivels up, shaking like a leaf.

"Shh, it's okay, the sourpuss didn't mean it. He secretly thinks you're the best thing since sliced bread, but he's too shy to say it. You understand, right? Aww, yes you do!" Orange lies, like the accomplished liar she is. Before, she was terrible at it, but now there isn't a single trace of remorse on the visible light spectrum.

Lemon misses the days when she was more tolerable. Though, she's happier now, so maybe not. He sighs. "Just get these flying sandwiches off me."

"Of course!" Orange cheerfully yanks them off, one by one. "In return, solve this math problem for me?"

Once sandwich-free, he dutifully accepts the pen and crumpled napkin. Squinting at it suspiciously, he asks, "Since when did your homework include the Stefan-Boltzmann Law? Did you get a competent teacher for once?"

"This is slander against Professor Cream, but since this isn't from her, I'll forgive you. When you finish solving it, we can get a 60% off discount!"

"So that's why you brought me here," Lemon says dryly. "You're the one paying, so why should I care?"

"Out of the goodness of your gooey-centered heart?"

His fingers itch to throw the pen at her. Except, the last thing he did that, her tennis reflexes kicked in and destroyed a corner of Herb's flower shop. "Try again."

After half a minute, she offers, "Think of all the food I can buy you with the extra money?"

He considers it. "On two conditions: takeout next time. And no public spaces."

"Whatever you want. Now do your magic, Mr. I-Grew-Up-Eating-Rocket-Science-For-Breakfast."

Actually, Lemon grew up eating one gel packet per day, with any supplementary nutrients injected through his arm, but he knows better than to bring that up. Orange would cry. Loudly. And then wrap him in blankets and force-feed him sugary cake from hell. 

Yeah, no thanks. Not an experience he'd like to repeat.

"Done." He sets the pen down, satisfied. "Whoever wrote this problem... might be capable of intelligent conversation."

"Thank you," says the server as she cleans the nearby tables with calculated efficiency, down to making it a performance art. She glances at the napkin. "You're not too bad yourself. No one's solved the radiation heat transfer equation for a solid two weeks. I'm Sandwich Cookie. You?"

It takes some elbow-prodding from Orange, but he reluctantly says, "Lemon Cookie."

"Oh, you're the one with the cube and Lemon Shield?" she asks, delighted. No one working at a sandwich shop—where noisy customers go in and out, demanding this and that—should sound _delighted_. "So that's why Cutecumber's mega deluxe sandwiches swarmed you. Rainbow Bear jellies are the main ingredient." 

"...How did you know?" His cube is in his pocket, and only a select few know about his shield's magnetic properties. Someone must've been spilling info about him.

"Used to be classmates with Hero Cookie. Nice guy, but clueless sometimes. Has a habit of saving people without asking." Sandwich laughs, as if she's sharing an inside joke. "He talks about his friends a lot."

Lemon short-circuits, too embarrassed to say another word. _Friends_. What a joke. Other the occasional appointment for cube upgrades, they hardly interact.

Orange takes the opportunity to steal the last of his sandwich, since she's already polished off the flying ones. Around a mouthful, she says, "Every time I hear about Lemon having friends, my heart grows three sizes."

"Are you sure it's not your stomach?" he snipes back. "Because I've seen you eat six sandwiches in one sitting. That has to be a new record."

"Nope, Moon Rabbit Cookie is the undisputed sandwich champion. Fifteen rice cake sandwiches in one minute," Sandwich recites proudly, like that's something to be proud of.

"That's pretty amazing..." Orange looks like she's about to prolong the unnecessary social interaction, which is. Unacceptable.

The only acceptable option left is static electricity, since subtlety seems to fly over her head. Probably because she can't hit it like one of her tennis balls.

"Ow!" She shoves him in retaliation, and he topples over with the grace of a drowning seagull. "Oops, too strong. Anyway, can I have the check? My best friend needs alone time with his edgy emo music."

"Orange." _Insult my music one more time, and your phone will die by my hands._

"Oh, did I say best friend? I meant lovable loser," she replies, in that irritatingly perky voice that she knows he hates.

Sandwich scribbles on her notepad and rips the page off. "Sure thing, here you go. Ring up the cashier when you're ready."

"Aren't you the cashier, though?" she asks, already holding out the money.

"Depends. It might be a doppelganger from Sandwichland, a clone from the lab, or something else entirely. Who knows? Not me," Sandwich singsongs, tucking the coins in her ketchup-stained apron.

Coughing up a spray of crumbs, Orange sputters, "How did she vanish so quickly?!"

 _That might've not been ketchup,_ Lemon reflects, and refuses to think about it any further.

"Let's leave. Like, right now."

 _Finally_.

* * *

"Why are you carrying me. In public. With _witnesses_."

"I panini... uh, panicked? Yeah."

(And that's how Lemon met Lime: arms crossed, shoulders hunched, wholly unamused as Orange held him in bridal-carry. Needless to say, she wasn't very amused either.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stefan-Boltzmann Law falls under thermal engineering, Vantablack is reportedly the closest color to a black hole, and I wrote this while sleep-deprived so it probably reads like crack.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I have a sequel planned, ft. Birthday Cake Cookie planning OrangeLime wedding & learning that she doesn't have to be perfect. It's called "Gathering Orange Blossoms" bc that's an idiom for "seeking a wife." Hopefully I actually write it.
> 
> I can't promise intelligent conversation, but if you comment, I can promise I'll reply :)


End file.
